Juice, My Brother!!!

One of the most amazing things about my life here has been the conversations I've had with Ugandans. They offer such amazing insight into Africa, and they also give me a new perspective on how Africans perceive the U.S. I also am completely in love with African English which has a wonderful cadence and all kinds of interesting vocabulary and grammar constructions. One of my new favorite conversation partners is one of the taxi drivers who takes me from Jinja to my village at night. His name is Siraji. A recent conversation went like this:

Siraji: So. You have how many children?

Me: Umm... none. I don't have any children.

Siraji: Eh! But you are old! How you are old?

Me: How old am I? I'm thirty.

Siraji. And me! I am thirty. I have six children! In your country, you have the family planning?

Me: Yes, we have family planning.

Siraji: What you have? The thing that blocks?

(With this, we officially launch into what was the most intimate conversation I've ever had with a taxi driver)

Me: We have that, also many people use tabs [African English for 'pills']

Siraji: You have the tabs! Oh. Very lucky. Here, tabs are very spensive.

Me: Yes, in my country women like tabs, and they are mostly affordable. It is important so we can have jobs before we have children.

Siraji: Jobs before get children! Eh! Mzungus.

And later in the ride...

Siraji: So. Ask me something. Me, I think all mzungus are good. You come to this country, you do the work, what what, you don't get the money, you volunteering. Africans, we only want the money. So mzungus are good people. But then, ask me this. George Bush... why he go into Iraq, say the weapons is there, the weapons is not there?

Me: Well... all mzungu are not good, first of all. Some are very bad. And George Bush... that is a good question. Do you know about 9/11? There were these big buildings, and they fell down because the airplanes crashed into them?

Siraji: Oh yes! I seed it.

Me: Okay, well, many Americans were very upset, because we like to think problems only happen in other countries... and unfortunately the people who drove those airplanes were Muslims, so many people were mad at Muslims...

Siraji: Oh! They were Muslims in the airplanes? You do not have Muslims in your country?

Me: Yes, we do. A lot of Muslims. But even so, the country was mad. So George Bush decided to go to war, even though the Muslims in the airplanes were not from Iraq. What religion are you?

Siraji: Me? I'm a Muslim. You?

Me: I'm Jewish.

Siraji: Juice? What is juice?

Me: Jew-ish. Umm... okay... so, you know a man in the Qu'uran named Abraham?

Siraji: Yes! Ibrahim. Father to Ishmael, who was the father of our people.

Me: Yes, exactly! Well, he had two sons.

Siraji: Yes, other one was Isaaca.

Me: Yes. Well, the Jewish people, we are the children of Isaac.

Siraji: Eh!!! You are son of Isaac! I am son of Ishmael! We are brothers!! Juice is my brother!!

Me: Yes, we are brothers... But, sometimes Jews and Muslims are bad to each other. Do you know of Israel? There is much fighting over land.

Siraji: Yes, but that is because we are brothers. Even me, I have brother. He fight with me. He take my land. It is because he is my brother.

Me: Okay... yeah, sometimes brothers can be bad, I guess.

Siraji: Eh, mzungu... you are my juice brother!

Basking in the warm glow of brotherhood, Siraji then drove straight into (yet another) ditch full of mud. But even that couldn't dampen his joy at his new discovery.

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On an unrelated note, I have to share this contribution from my stepbrother, Blake. Given the juxtaposition of my life at HBS with my current life, he thought this could be my next endeavor....

http://www.theonion.com/content/news/socialites_without_borders_teach